"Some
one'll open the real door, and I can lock up behind us."
"Why lock up?" argued Win, hesitating. "Aren't there others coming?"
"My, yes, unless they're all here. But it wouldn't do to leave a
cover-up door like this standing open. If the police happened along
and saw, they'd think there was something wrong and make my friend a
whole lot of bother."
Win saw the force of this explanation, and stooping to pass through
the low aperture, found herself close to a pretentiously carved
portal. The electric bell revealed itself to groping fingers, and to
her surprise a few seconds after she had touched it, without hearing a
sound, the door opened.
In the dimness of a hall or large vestibule the figure of a man
loomed black against dark gray. Win could see of him only that he was
tall and straight and prim, like a well-trained servant, and his voice
was a servant's voice as he said: "Please be a little careful, miss,
not to trip. We have to keep it rather dark here, but there's plenty
of light inside Let me show you through the hall."
Win thanked him, but turned inside the door to ask: "Aren't you
coming, Miss Leavitt?" (They had never been upon Christian name
terms.
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